It may mean nothing to you, but today is (Gregorian) day 108, a numerologically meaningful number to those of us who find it amusing to wake up at 11:11 or 1:23 or other interesting digital times. After an afternoon of napping and cuddling under a blanket --it's been"cold" (~mid-60s to mid-70s) in Hawaii the past couple days-- I stepped out onto the lanai in the dusk to observe the crescent moon, a perfectly balanced upturned cup, poised directly over Venus (I presume it is Venus), in l'heure bleue. That's also the name of a Guerlain perfume dating from 1912, a sample of which I just dabbed on my pulse points. Not my favorite (I'm an Angel girl, preferring patchouli over sandalwood), but perfume students need to understand and recognize the very classic Guerlains. Once I bought a bottle of Samsara, a more modern Guerlain, from 1989, and was soaking myself in it despite the fact that there was something in the drydown, precisely at 11 minutes, a fleeting odor of death and decay, that made me nauseous for just a moment. I drenched my way to Hong Kong, drunk on it, spritzing in the bathroom at Narita, probably making everyone in the plane suffer needlessly. (They might have thought they were airsick.) Arrived in HK, continuing my overindulgence, the Wizard observed as we sat in the back of a mini-bus, "There's a strong smell of urine in here."
I haven't been able to bring myself to wear the weirdly named Samsara since. And l'heure bleue is probably best enjoyed, visually, with a glass of cabernet on my lanai.
6 years ago